


flow sweetly, hang heavy (you suddenly complete me)

by copperiisulfate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their mornings go like this: he makes two cups of tea, and she ties his Windsor knot like a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flow sweetly, hang heavy (you suddenly complete me)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "hysteric" by the yeah yeah yeahs, which sort of set the tone for this.

 

Their mornings go like this: he makes two cups of tea, and she ties his windsor knot like a promise. 

(They both know that he knows how to tie it, learned from his father when he was eight, and they both know she’ll never let him leave home without her fixing it for him.)

He takes the time to drop a kiss to her forehead before they leave for their separate commutes to work. Her skin is a little cool to the touch but she locks her fingers behind his neck, lets them sit for just a moment, and it’s enough to ground him, settle the waves in his head.

(He’s not her boss, her superior in this life. He is neither her captain nor her king. He is her friend, her partner, her—no, just  _hers_.)

*

They go out for dinner, maybe twice a week some weeks, once a week every two weeks, something like this or that.

She wears a dress, blue tonight. It’s definitely her colour, but he doesn’t say it, opens the car door for her and watches the profile of her face for a moment through the window before getting in the car. The glint of a street light catches on her earring, a simple diamond stud, his gift on their first year together. (He’d thought of something more ornate but she’d been eyeing these instead.) 

He drives and it’s quiet, the kind of quiet that is easy to fall into; she taps a rhythm on her thigh and he catches it from the corner of his eye, takes her hand at the stop light, squeezes her fingers briefly and lets go.

*

The drive back is less quiet; they laugh about a friend of her family’s, a recent wedding and stories of odd gifts given: two dozen towels, in all the colours of the rainbow, antique coat hangers, pickled fish; a collection of yarn. She has always had a soft laugh but it’s her voice when she tells a story, the excitement and the breath in it, that fills the air and the space inside his head.

He kisses her at the threshold of their doorstep, takes her face in his hands and her surprised sound against his mouth. She tugs him inside the apartment, good and proper, closes the door behind him, smiles up at him and says she had a good night. He tells her that he is glad, brings a hand to push her hair away from her face, means to say, _So did I, as with every night, and every day with you,_ but doesn't, does not need to.

*

It’s a weeknight so they get ready to turn in early, brush their teeth side by side and read for half an hour before bed, her head against his shoulder, book nestled in her lap while he flips through reports, legs outstretched, covers pulled up to his knees. She’s falling asleep at his side and he wants to laugh because her glasses are falling crooked on her face.

( _We match_ , he’d told her, to cheer her up when she was first told she was farsighted and she’d been a little upset.

She’d bought a matching pair of pyjamas for both of them as retaliation, lilac in colour with white vertical stripes.  _You want to match?_  she’d said.  _Let’s match._

He makes no secret of the fact that he loves them to pieces.)

He tucks her book away, her glasses away, and his own things away before nudging her into repositioning herself. She curls around him, drowsy, mumbles a stream of something vaguely unintelligible but he’s had long enough of decoding it to know that it’s got a G _ood night_  and _I love you_  in there somewhere.

He draws up the covers higher, stops just below her shoulders, the way she likes them, kisses the crown of her head and turns out the lights.

(His a good life, he is reminded every night. The best.

And maybe even then, it is an understatement.)


End file.
